Like Legends
by tinypinkmouse
Summary: It's nice to know that there's someone out there who cares enough about the life of Seamus Harper to go through the trouble of saving it, time after time.


A while ago when I took part inspn_in_space, I couldn't quite decide how to actually manage getting people into space, so I ended up with a few more stories than the one that I posted for the challenge.

This story takes place in the far future of the alternate future seen in _5.4 The End_.

* * *

><p>"When events test men,<p>

angels then appear."

- 1015 CY, _Wayist Verse_ ("Chaos And The Stillness Of It")

Their relationship changes after the Worldship. But then, of course, it would have to. _Everything_ changes after the Worldship. And he hates – hates, _hates_ – all of it.

Except maybe for just this, whatever this thing with him and Tyr is. He doesn't hate this. He still doesn't trust Nietzscheans – still hates all of them – and Tyr hasn't suddenly become any less of one. But he's _Tyr_ and that's… it's something. It's a lot.

Sooner or later his little kiddies are going to eat their way out of his belly, and won't that be a lovely way to go? He can feel them wriggling inside of him, and he doesn't want to think about it, because it scares him more than anything. Makes him want to just end it all right here and now.

_And what if there is a cure?_ But, he doesn't want to die like that. And the chance that he won't is so very, very small.

It's Tyr's hand on his stomach, Magog larvae wriggling under the warmth of his palm – _don't think about it Harper, just don't!_ – that makes him feel less disgusting, less violated, less like getting it all over with already. It's Tyr telling him that there's always hope, that almost makes him believe there might still be a chance for him.

It's Tyr promising to kill him before his lovely little kids do, that makes him live through another day.

Imagine that, a Nietzschean spending some of his oh-so-precious time to keep Harper alive. Not just saving his life, but actually keeping him alive.

There's a hand on his belly again, warm and nice and horrible all at once. He thinks maybe the kids like it too, and that's not a thought he wants to have. _Stop Harper, just stop._

He draws a finger over one of the bone spikes and Tyr growls at him. It's a low rumble that only makes him smile; it should make him flinch and scurry away to hide. Hard learned instincts shouldn't be so easily forgotten.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he asks, his voice brittle and harsh as he shoves Tyr's hand away.

Tyr doesn't answer him, just shrugs.

"And what's with the 'I'm so tough I don't need words to communicate' thing anyway? It's not like I haven't met people that are tougher than you." It's a stupid, childish thing to say, and later he might think of some justification for it. Right now he doesn't much care.

Tyr snorts. "I doubt it," he says, ever sure of himself.

"It's true though," he answers more quietly now. Remembering. "Well, really, just one."

He thinks he knows Tyr well enough by now to hear the curiosity in the quiet that follows. He inches closer to the warm, hard body sitting next to him and ignores the part of him that tries to remind him of exactly what he's doing.

There's the briefest of hesitations, before Tyr's arm moves around him and he leans into Tyr's side. _Never thought you'd be this close to a Nietzschean and still be breathing, huh?_

It shouldn't feel so fucking _safe_.

"I was… nine, I think when I met him. We were so damned stupid," he spits out angrily, still remembering it all too well. "We'd seen what happened to some of the kids who were stupid enough to get caught taunting the Dragans. Of course we weren't supposed to be doing it, but that didn't stop us. And of course we got caught."

He thinks back on that instance, a gun aimed at his cousin, himself hanging in the air, held by the hard, unforgiving grip on his throat. He'd had bruises for weeks from that, and it's a damned miracle that that's all he had.

And then _he'd _been there, taking them all by surprise. Harper's never been able to figure out exactly what happened, oxygen deprivation and fear getting in the way of his observational skills. All he knew was that suddenly he was free and the Dragans were all dead.

Of course Tyr just scoffs at that, killing a few Dragans isn't any accomplishment at all in his book. Maybe he's right about that, but it wasn't the last time Harper saw him, or the last time that he saved Harper's life.

"Just take my word for it, okay," Harper says, knowing that Tyr won't. But there are things he doesn't want to think about any more than he has to, reasons why Nietzscheans scare the wits out of him and reasons why the Magog terrified him long before the Worldship.

Still, it's nice to know that there's someone out there who cares enough about the life of Seamus Harper to go through the trouble of saving it, time after time.

He feels warm where he's pressed against Tyr and he lets his head rest against him. For a moment he manages to forget about the things growing inside his belly.

* * *

><p>"Hubris made the angels of heaven into devils...<p>

and their obstinacy keeps them in hell."

- 319 CY, _From the Kuruvian Texts_ ("One More Day's Light")

It's entirely by coincidence that he finds Seamus. When his charge had suddenly left Earth, there'd been no way for Cas to follow. Of course, it hadn't taken him too long to get off the planet, to find out about the Eureka Maru and later, the Andromeda. But it had all been rumours and hearsay and while he hadn't lost track of Seamus exactly, there'd been no way for him to keep to his self-appointed task of guarding the last of the Winchester line.

The last of Dean's descendants.

There's no point to it really, never was. He's the only angel left after Dean shot Lucifer (killed _Sam_) and there's never going to be any Archangels to want their vessels, no plan from Father to follow. But there's Winchester blood running through Seamus' veins and Cas has been looking after Dean's children and his children's children ever since... always.

It's all the purpose he has left in this nearly mortal life of his, after it had finally dawned on him, that while most of his grace had faded, he's never going to die of old age. Once he'd finally crawled out of his drugged haze.

Sometimes he takes comfort in the thought that maybe he'd never Fallen after all, but most days he realises that it doesn't matter one way or the other why he is what he is. He's still the only one left, Father is still gone and Heaven is nowhere he can reach.

And now here Seamus is, walking down the street next to a _Nietzschean_. He's heard about this one of course, he knows the Nietzschean is part of the same crew as Seamus. He can see, when he looks at the two of them walking there, that the Nietzschean _cares _about the human next to him.

But he's still angel enough to see other things as well, to see that there's no guarantees that the friendship between them will be enough. There's still so much potential in humans, but Nietzscheans seem to have made it their mission to try to stamp that potential out in themselves.

And still, there's always hope.

Seamus falls behind slightly as he stops to look at something in one of the stalls lining the street, the Nietzschean doesn't bother to stop. Cas doesn't hesitate to take the opportunity he's given.

"Hello Seamus," he says from behind the man.

Seamus startles and jumps around, looking ready to defend himself despite the fear Cas can see shining in his eyes. He feels satisfied at that; Winchester blood still runs true.

The fear bleeds away quickly. "Cas?" Seamus asks, surprise colouring his voice.

"Yes," he answers, even though it seems redundant. He hasn't changed in appearance since Seamus last saw him.

"How… _what _are you doing here?" There's a hint of fear in the question, and Cas can't deny the fact that it might seem warranted; the only times Seamus ever really sees him are when there's danger of some sort.

"I'm…" he struggles for the words to explain what he doesn't know himself, "just passing through," he concludes with words that he'd once, long ago, heard both Sam and Dean use more than once. Then he looks to the Nietczhean who has finally stopped, and is now looking at them suspiciously, but he's too far away to hear them and, at the moment at least, seems content to wait.

"You care for him," Cas says.

"Well… uh…" Seamus stumbles over his words. "He saved my life," he says defensively.

"I'm not reproaching you for anything," Cas says. "But you should not trust him."

Seamus looks glum suddenly. "Yeah, I know," he answers.

"I can see that you already do, to some extent at least," Cas says neutrally. "And I do not doubt that in time that trust will grow, as will your affection for him." He's quiet for a moment, but Seamus seems to have nothing to add. "I could…" Cas says, letting his words trail off, knowing that Seamus will understand what he's implying.

"No!" Seamus denies, his voice urgent and almost desperate.

Cas inclines his head in acquiescence. "Very well."

The Nietzschean began moving towards them at Seamus's cry. "I will see you again," Cas says and leaves before the Nietzschean has time to reach them.

He'll just have to find another way to save Seamus from this danger, when the time comes.

He hopes it will not.


End file.
